


brothers and friends (all the way to the end)

by Gabby



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adult Content, Also really if you hate Ward don't bother with this, Brother Feels, Brotherhood, Brotherly Love, Drabble Collection, Essentially my two fave marvel men being besties, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Language, Male Bonding, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Men Crying, Multi, One Shot Collection, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Romance, Sexual Content, So says my headcanon, WardRogers friendship all the way, Wardhaters need not apply, au-ish, don't cut me!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:20:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabby/pseuds/Gabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows the developing friendship between two men at the opposite end of the spectrum.</p><p>(Takes place during, in between, and after my fic, <i>"so, a specialist & a supersoldier walk into a bar..."</i> but, you don't have to read it necessarily, though you might get a bit confused. Rating liable to change depending on content.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paris; Grant/Jemma; Grant & Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Like I mentioned above, this has to do with another, aforementioned story of mine and even though you don't have to read it to have a go at this one, there's a some things here that might not make a whole lotta sense if you don't so...
> 
> Also, I can't promise consistency of updates and/or linear writing. Just interconnected, out of order drabbles and stories. Just a bunch of stuff I didn't know where to place in the original story.
> 
> Otherwise, read on! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward spends some down time with a special somebody and then receives a visit from a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally the first ever story I thought of for this. If you happen to be anti-Ward or don't ship Simmons/Ward, I don't wanna hear about it. It's just my own preference. Don't hate on me for having a different one than yours. Seriously. :|
> 
> Otherwise...
> 
> This one takes place a few months after Cap 2:TWS and S1 of AOS. Basically, after the fall of SHIELD. Please enjoy! :))

He's in Paris with Jemma - naked and nestled against his side - when Steve gives him the call. The incessant buzzing of his phone at the bedside table waking him up at five in the morning.

And honestly, for someone as acclimated to paying mind to the details and his surroundings, the past day in a half has been more of a blur than anything else.

Yup. It's true.

Grant Ward has his mind on other things right now.

The past few hours - or _however_ many hours, depending - have been an odd, happy blur.

He vaguely recalls being dropped by The Playground by Cap and Falcon (after spending what had felt like a decade searching for Bucky Barnes and _still_ coming up empty). Feeling pleased and relieved to have at least some respite from spending time in suspicious areas of the world in this mission that's become his life recently.

Something that's never really bothered him before but, well...

And then, he's there being hysterically welcomed by Skye and Fitz. Smothering him with hugs he half-heartedly tries to toss off. Both of them babbling nonsensically about what's changed since he's been gone. Coulson being named Director. New agents put in place of the many either dead, missing, or compromised.

He'd even congratulated Skye on nabbing The Cavalry as her new SO in his absence. She could become a great field agent yet.

(he knows something is also different between his two friends. can almost smell it. they keep stealing glances at each other and the engineer's ears keep flushing red when they do.

whatever. he'll get it out of them eventually. he just hopes they know what they're doing.)

Regardless, his need to ask them any questions is taken out of him when he sees Jemma. Beautiful, brilliant Jemma. Whom he'd missed for all the months he had been away. Whom he had dreamed of while he'd been away.

Then, before he knew it, she's in his arms. Smattering kisses over his face. Gripping his neck in a vice with her arms as he'd tossed up into an embrace.

And then, she'd kissed him properly. Firmly. On the lips. Right in front of god and their friends and god knows how many others.

"Hi." She'd whispered against his lips after pulling away. Arms still around his neck. Eyes shining and smile, wide and happy. 

He smiles, setting her down on her feet, somewhat reluctantly. "Hi."

He's running a greedy hand through her hair. Over the pulse at her throat because _god, he's missed her_ when he realizes... "You changed your hair?" He asks, only now just taking in the shorter tresses between his fingers.

"Oh!" She, unfortunately lets him go and runs her own hands over the haircut. "Yeah."

 _He likes it_ , he wants to say but then...

Of course, that had been when he had to be tugged away to go see Director Coulson. Saving one more smile for the blushing biochemist and promptly ignoring the hoots and winks from Fitz and Skye. The dorks.

He does find her again, later. In the lab. Wearing that white lab he'd always dreamed of stripping off her.

As well as those damn goggles. He _fucking loves_ those goggles on her.

(And, him being who he is, their conversation goes something like this:

"Paris." She repeats after asking him if he'd come back and then where's he's headed instead. Looking at him in surprise and disbelief. "You're going to Paris?"

"Yes-"

"You're taking a vacation? At a time like this?" She continues skeptically, doing that wrinkle thing with her nose that he finds utterly adorable.

He finds a lot of things about her adorable though, so whatever.

"Yeah." He answers, holding her hands in his. Keeping her gaze on his. "I want a break." He utters, surprising even himself because he's never said that but, these _last few months_... He'd been more than a little drained then ever before. And right then, he'd been looking at her. Taking her in. And a thought occurred to him.

"Grant-"

"Come with me." He interrupts, peering into her eyes.

Her caramel-colored orbs widen a bit more. "What?"

Well...)

It takes a bit but, he manages to convince her to take a break and go to Paris, where a penthouse he still very much owns, is located. To go there before so, he could take care of some business before meeting her there.

Which he does... And before he knows it, he's standing in front of the apartment building he hasn't been inside of in over a year.

He's got money and IDs stashed all over the world and this is his _one_ indulgence. So sue him.

It's another blur after that. He recalls quickly saying hello in perfect French to the doorman and heading upstairs towards the penthouse. Recalls using the key he's thankful he still has. Letting himself in. Calling out Jemma's name in cautious greeting. And then... Seeing _her_ there. In blue jeans and a silk blouse. Looking gorgeous and smiling at him from her perch by the window, no doubt catching the view of the Eiffel Tower from there.

He's starting to doubt his self-control when it comes to her. Even if it had been there to begin with.

From then on, it's vivid recollections of sex, hot caresses, and heated words said against naked flesh. He could hardly get enough of her. He's surprised he's lasted this long, to be honest.

And that's how, many hours later, he's lying in the rumpled sheets of the bed that he's never really had much use for in a long while, trailing his fingertips on Jemma's spine on the curve of her bare back as she nuzzles her nose into his throat with a contented sigh. Half snoozing on top of him. A welcome, warm weight embracing him.

They hadn't talked about this. Not yet. He'd wanted to when he had arrived but, well... He glances at her sleeping face. It's elegant angles. Those cute freckles scattered on her skin. The purse of her rosebud mouth. The feel of her slender fingers on his bare chest.

(He hasn't felt like this in... _ever_ and just stays there for however long gazing into that face. Savoring the feel of her on his chest. Trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.) 

And he might have dozed off because the thing he knows, he's hearing that damn buzzing and trying to blindly reach for the phone with closed eyes and then gently rolling away from Jemma to avoid waking her up, even as she cuddles up to the pillow he abandons when he has to get up from the bed. Shrugging on his boxer-briefs as he goes.

He drinks in the sight for a minute longer before heading to the balcony and answering the phone without looking at the call ID.

He doesn't need it. He _knows_ who it is.

"Ward." He says by way of greeting.

 _"We have a lead."_ Captain Steve Rogers informs him instead of saying a simple hello. Gotta love the guy. He wastes _no_ time. _"There's been a spotting near Switzerland."_

His gut clenches. His heart squeezing unpleasantly. The implications making him alert instantly. "Whereabouts?" He asks calmly even though he feels anything but. He has a feeling about where this is going.

And as it turns out, he's not wrong. _"The... Alps."_ He hears filtered through the phone line in a long, drawn out sigh.

"Steve, is that-"

But, of course, his friend is already two steps ahead. _"It is. I know."_

 _Fuck, I'm sorry._ Is what he wants to say but, instead what comes out of his mouth is. "I'm in Paris. Can you-"

_"I can get there. Where are you exactly?"_

He tells him the address and directions on how to get there and is in the process of hanging up when he hears from behind him. "Grant?"

The soft, feminine voice jolts him from the reverie of this recent piece of news, turning and seeing Jemma at the open French doors of his balcony, draped in his thin bed sheet. Looking like the most tempting, lovely sight he'd ever seen in his life. Half-highlighted in moonlight.

She walks into his arms when he reaches for her. "Was that Captain Rogers?"

"Yeah." He replies, resting his chin on the top of her head. Her slim arms around hugging his waist. "He's gonna be here in a few hours." He adds, sliding his hands up her back.

"Good news?" She asks, _bless her_ , with a bright, encouraging note in her voice.

Yet, he can't even find it within himself to lie to her. He's learned enough from the last few months with Steve that lying to avoid hurt feelings just _won't wash_. "I hope so."

 

 

He takes her again.

  First, right after the aforementioned call from Cap. A better than good roll in the sheets stripping him, for the time being, of the feeling he'd gotten during that phone call. Hands mapping her body everywhere. Tearing out as many sounds of pleasure as he could manage.

And he could manage. He could manage real well.

(She even takes him for a ride herself. What this pretty scientist lacks in experience, she more than makes up for in enthusiasm and self-confidence... and a happy willingness to experiment.)

Regardless, he maybe would have had the time to be dressed already and put together by the time Steve is knocking on his door but, then he's stepping out of the shower in only a towel to see Jemma lying in his still rumbled bed and singing along off-tune to French music.

Wearing only his shirt.

So, _that's_ twenty minutes gone.

He's actually shrugging on a shirt over jeans, his feet bare, as the knocking continues - polite, with pauses in between, two-knuckled, obviously Steve's - looking through the peephole just in case before unlocking and opening the door.

His friend, dressed in down home civvies of blue t-shirt and khakis under a darker jacket, does a one-over on him. Cocking a single brow at his own casual wear, still damp hair, and bare feet. "Am I interrupting?" He asks dryly, lips quirking upward.

Steve Rogers and Captain America aren't one in the same. Something Grant has come to know well during their friendship and partnership these fast months. Cap is an entity. A symbolic ideal for hope, justice, and the American Way. He's perfection personified. Flawless. A cardboard goody-two-shoes.

Captain America isn't standing in front of him now. Steve Rogers is. The man who's become his best friend. His partner that's watched his back. The same guy who happens to enjoy a few beers with him every now and again. Who also has a dry sense of humor and irony that even Ward could appreciate. And who could actually roll with the punches a lot better than anyone would realize.

And yeah, despite what everyone may say, he's very much _not_ as pure as the proverbial driven snow.

In spite of that though, he could hasten to guess that his buddy  _will_ become as red as a tomato if he lets him know he'd been busy between his woman's thighs not five minutes ago so, he says. "You did. Come in."

The flaxen-haired man shoulders past him into the apartment, toting a duffle bag over said shoulder. "You know, when you said you had a nice place in Paris, you never specified that it was the penthouse."

He watches his friend eye around the living space. The large, comfy couches surrounding a coffee table. The open balcony French doors. The café style table with two chairs near the pristine kitchen. "Jeez, this place is massive."

It is pretty damn nice. More than nice. It had been one of his more impulsive buys in recent years. A buy he's glad he'd made.

"It's not like you live in a shoebox." He gestures towards the couches and coffee table. "Have a seat."

"Yeah, well..." Steve says, sitting down on one of the couches - the one conveniently facing the open, daylight view of the Eiffel Tower that Grant chooses not comment on. "...This is literally _miles_ from what I'm used to so..."

He takes a seat across from him. "You got the plans?"

Steve gives him a nod and rolls out an enormous map from the duffle because yup, that's how this is going. Fuck technology when you've got old-fashioned paper maps.

And it's only a couple of minutes before Jemma is waltzing her way out of the bedroom. Again, wearing his white button-up, this time with the same blue jeans she'd worn when he'd gotten to the penthouse. In the process of rolling up the sleeves of the shirt as she's walking out into the living area.

She looks lovely and refreshed. Especially in her afterglow  _and_ bathed in golden sunlight.

"Captain Rogers!" She greets cheerily. Sweetly. The voice she uses when she knows someone has gotten a bad bit of news and wants to make the day brighter for them. "How nice to see you!"

(He'd told her as vaguely as possibly about this mission with Steve because he knows his friend wouldn't want it broadcast and although Jemma Simmons is one of the most trust-worthy people he knows and Cap has met her around the labs down at The Hub before the fall, it's just _not_ gonna fly.)

Either way, her words seem to have the intended affect and Steve sends her one of his big, thousand-watt smiles and soon, he finds himself watching one of his best friends and woman of his dreams chat like old pals. Jemma going through the motions as she talks with her hands and tries explaining science jargon that he understands - through knowing her for as long as he has - somewhat even as Steve looks at her with a mix of fascination and utter befuddlement.

He's not even gonna begrudge the guy. He _completely_ understands.

Of course, they do have to get back to business and once Jemma catches wind of that, she starts heading towards the kitchen. "Well, I'm off to make lunch. Any preferences, boys?"

They really don't and her presence, from then on, is a constant buzzing nearby. Comforting even though she's clanging and banging and fluttering around in the kitchen. He's so distracted in keeping his nose buried in their plans and maps and where the hell Barnes really is that he only has a distant thought that it reminds of the way she moves around in a lab. Her beakers and vials replaced by cookware and kitchen utensils.

She had told him once that cooking is just like another experiment. Albeit, with safer and edible results.

Soon enough, in the midst of their brainstorming, the smell of herbs and melted cheese starts expanding in the room and a few minutes later, he gets why as Jemma walks over to them with a covered porcelain tray. "Come on then. Lunch time." She says, waiting after they move the many papers and maps out of the way before settling down said tray.

Turns out she'd made them _croque-monsieurs_. The sandwiches still steaming and hot and really delicious as they dig in gratefully, thanking her in mouths full of toast and melty cheese as she serves them fresh iced tea she'd also made.

She takes their praises of her culinary skills with pink cheeks and beams at them before walking back into the kitchen.

"I like her." Steve admits after she's out of earshot.

He nods, spidey senses going on high already. Because the other man is speaking in the same tone that he'd adapted after finding out about that Lewis girl last week. "Okay."

"She's sweet." Steve affirms, nodding. "I really like her. For you, I mean." His friend supplies needlessly with a glint in his eye that spells trouble. "She makes you... nicer. Lighter."

"Alright." He mutters, taking a drink of the tea. "Out with it."

Steve just shrugs, acting so fucking innocent when he's anything but. Bastard. "Nothing. I'm just saying... she's _good_ for you." He elaborates. "Are you gonna ask her to be your girl?"

He nearly glares at his friend because honestly... "Really? What is this, high school?"

"It's just a question."

Nothing's ever _just_ a question. "I know what you're doing. Now stop."

The supersoldier chuckles, taking a big bite of his sandwich and speaking through his full mouth, a chipmunk grin on his dumb, knowing face. "Be sure to invite me to the wedding." He teases in that way that he does and seriously, if anybody had ever thought that Steve Rogers is a humorless boy scout have clearly never met the man.

"Fuck off."

 

 

"So, you'll phone me, then?" Jemma asks, sliding her hands over his arms in their close embrace, even as The Bus hovers nearby at an airfield in the French countryside. Gazing up at him - way up because she's tiny and it _must be_ a fetish of his with the way it makes him feel - in that soft manner he doesn't know what to do with.

"I will." He assures her, cupping the side of her face, unable to help himself. "Just as long as you return the favor. Keep yourself safe while I'm gone." He orders kindly, sweeping his thumb over her cheekbone.

"Away." She utters, following a small pause, her nose scrunched up adorably.

"What?"

"Away. I'll keep myself safe while you're _away_. Not _gone_." She explains, the expression painting her face almost too much for him to handle. "Gone implies that you're possibly never coming back and I don't like that so, no. I won't keep myself safe while you're gone. I'll keep myself safe while you're away. For now." She adds firmly, expressive hazel eyes challenging him.

He _doesn't_ wanna lie to her. Doesn't wanna sugar coat things. Never has before. He may very well not come back out of this alive.

But... he also doesn't want to dash her hopes away. And he _does_ wanna come back to her again. Share moments like this in the long run a thousand times over. Until then, though, this is something he can have. Something he can _keep_ for the lonely nights ahead.

So, he smiles at her, feeling a burst of fondness at the sweetly stern look on her face because she's just blinding and perfect and he wants to keep this branded in his memory forever. "Okay. Keep yourself safe while I'm away, then. Sound good to you?"

"Very." She chases him upward for a kiss and they stay there for a bit. As though savoring the contact here while they still can. Inhaling breath and feeling lips and mouths and committing to memory banks.

And when he slowly pulls away, he finds himself gazing down at her, Steve's earlier words swirling around in his head. Images of a future he'd never thought he could want or had been possible. "Jemma?" He murmurs, his heart hammering.

"Yes, Grant?"

"While I'm _away_..." He starts teasing, hoping to keep the mood light. "...don't, y'know, give up on me."

(Code for _don't fuck anybody else_. Code for _don't give anybody else those looks you give me_. Code for... _don't ever give up on me_. _Don't ever realize you're too good for me_.)

She stares at him for a long moment and he nearly contemplates taking his words back before she simply asks. "Are you asking me to go steady with you, Grant Ward?" And when he meets her eyes, she's got a bright, pleased smile on her lips and his pulse speeds up without his permission.

But, he mans up anyway and says. "Officially, yeah." He admits hesitantly before adding. "If you want."

She kisses him again, whispering her  _yes_ into his soul and laughing happily as she pulls away and he is made to watch her walk to the Bus. His heart tugging in that strange way that she tends to inspire.

 _We'll always have Paris._ He thinks unbidden as she disappears into the aircraft.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! :) If you have any constructive criticism, give it to me. It's always helpful. But, please be fair. I've only seen a few episodes of S2 of AOS so, yeah. Also, if you have a few suggestions scenarios for this, I would open to it. ;)


	2. Real Talk; Steve & Grant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a lot to contend with a certain specialist... And nowhere to run, being in a hospital bed and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, very happy about the response to the first chapter of this collection of mine! :) Seriously, it has gotten a lot better reception than I thought it would! Thank you! :)) You guys are the bomb! ;)
> 
> This one takes place directly after the events of both AOS S1 and CAP 2:TWS. And fic wise, after Grant gets to the hospital near the end of my aforementioned (see note above) one-shot. And essentially, a few months prior to the first chapter. And also, not as long. Enjoy!

Steve wakes up, for the hundredth time in the past few hours, to the sight of a bland white ceiling and the beep of heart monitors.

And just as quickly as his eyes opened, they close again.

And all at once, all his senses go to work without his lucid recall: The fact that it's now dark out, judging by the lack of natural light from the closed curtains and the silence permeating his surroundings. So silent that he could hear snippets of conversation between a doctor and his mistress down the hall. The snoring of an on-call nurse a few doors down. The squeak of a mouse in the walls. The smell of anti-bacterial gel and stale plastic and sterile metal clogging up all the oxygen in the air.

His eyes open again. Just as he's suspected before.

Clearly, he's still in the hospital.

And clearly, the fucking nightmare of the past few days has, in fact, not been all in his head.

Which is truly goddamn unfortunate.

SHIELD is... gone. Or at least, most of it. He's worked with SHIELD long enough to know that it really is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg with The Triskellion. It may have been the headquarters of the entire, literal lie they've all been living under for all these decades but, he also knows that they have many, many bases of operation all around the globe.

He wonders if they can still be salvaged. His mind had been mostly on taking down HYDRA within SHIELD that he had just wanted to burn everything to the ground after... It's not all about him, he knows that.

Even now, in the calm following the storm, he wonders if the remaining, loyal people who'd dedicated their lives to-

Regardless, he's not gonna be here to see if and when the dust settles or not.

He has something he has to do first.

"You're up." He hears to his left in the slightly darkened room and it's maybe a testament to how Dr. Simmons has been working on these enhanced painkillers like they're the cure for cancer, that he doesn't startle nor has even taken into account the dark-haired man sitting next to him still during his earlier perusal.

That's probably also the reason why all the aches and pains and _god the fucking amount of injuries on his whole body_ , are now down to a duller throb. And the pounding in his head has ceased some.

Hey, no drug's perfect.

He turns his head and meets a pair of dark, alert eyes belonging to his best friend.

"I am." He shrugs a bad shoulder at Grant's statement, sitting up with a grunt. "I wish I wasn't but, I am." He grunts some more and leans back, completely missing the expression that crosses the other man's face.

When he's stable enough and looks over at Ward, his friend is already on the move and is heading towards the area that holds the plastic pitcher and the sippy cups.

"Here. Drink that. Doctors said your throat would be dry." He says, watching him for a few minutes as he struggles get comfortable with his bad shoulder and the pitcher of water before immediately gesturing him for him to stop with a slight chuckle. "Look me help you with it, ace."

"Fuck off." He tries saying with no venom.

"Don't be like that." Grant retorts in a snap, the grin slight but, visible on his face.

He protests some more. Of course he does. He's a grown man. An enhanced soldier. He should be able to do this one thing on his own. He'll be good as new a day or two, he's certain. He's just never really sustained this much injuries in a really, really long time. Since the serum, actually and while getting at least mildly hurt in the field is still a possibility, it's not as easy it had been. Between his training and the shield, well...

As it is, though, after a minutes he lets it go and allows Grant to fuss over him. Partly because it's a very rare sight despite how close they've become as friends and also, because it brings about pang of nostalgia out of him in reminding him sharply of his childhood when Bucky and he used to patch each other up. Looking out for one another in the way they had.

Bucky... He feels that thing again. That tingle at the back of his throat. The burning sensation behind his eyes.

God, Bucky. The man who'd been his best friend in the world. His constant. His... _brother_.

It pains him to know that he'd thought one of the few people in the world to ever believe in him had been dead - and that had been bad enough - but, to know that all this time, he'd been-

He can't bare it and clears his throat before he could fall apart completely in a hospital bed of all places.

"Steve." He hears above him, a familiar strong grip on his shoulder bringing him back from his grief-stricken stupor. "Steve, do you want me to get a nurse or-"

"No." He manages clamping his hand over the one on his shoulder in a maybe too tight grab, judging by the surprise on his friend's face. "No, don't... I'm fine."

He's not, really. But, he sure as shit isn't gonna say so. He has no business bleeding on others. Although with that realization comes another.

His world has fallen apart all in the span of a few days... yet he knows he still has people in his corner. Including Grant. The man who's become his most unlikely of best friends.

Because he is his best friend. One of the many surprises he's experienced in the past year in a half.

They couldn't be more different. He sometimes wonders if those contrasts play into their friendship.

"You look like you got run over by a car and then got stomped on. You know that, right?"

He eyes Grant sitting back down. His hands clasped together over his stomach as he leans back in the chair. The dried cut down under his cheekbone. The number of bruises on his face. "So do you." He responds archly. "What happened?"

"What happened to _you_?" Ward demands, his brow cocking up into his hairline. His shoulder shrugging up, the only sign he's growing impatient. "You and Wilson told me the gist of it. Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier. You and Romanov were on the run. And then the Helicarriers... but that wasn't all of it, was it?"

He stares at him. Natasha had called him a terrible liar. And really, he doesn't make a habit of it so, at the time he'd thought it had just been her frustration and grief over Fury.

He should have known that she wouldn't say something like that if she hadn't meant it.

And that Grant Ward has been named the best since her. A trait that would have been worrisome if he didn't trust him so much.

"You went up there without an exit strategy, didn't you?" The other man asks, a carefully blank look on his face. His voice abruptly neutral. "You were either gonna save him or die trying." He adds, not bothering to form that into a question. "You knew the minute those Helicarriers started getting destroyed that you wouldn't get out on time and you didn't care, did you? Whether you died or not stopped mattering."

He blinks at the man sitting next to him and giving him a stare that's basically daring him to contradict him.

He's... not wrong. After deactivating the last Helicarrier, he had become so single-minded in trying to get to Bucky. Trying to get Bucky to see him. See him as the man he'd known. Trying to get through to him that he lost track of things.

He hadn't really wanted to die but, god, everything stopped mattering when Bucky had kept looking with that traumatized confusion. All that pain.

That's why he had stopped fighting.

A thought occurs to him then. Being pulled out of the water. Seeing the fuzzy image of somebody standing over him through barely open eyes. Recalling... a metal arm.

"He pulled me out." He says out loud.

He hears a scoff and turns, seeing Grant with an incredulous expression written all over his face. "Don't change the subj-"

"No. I know." He tries explaining. "I mean, he pulled me out of the water. Bucky pulled out of the water after the Helicarrier. I wouldn't be alive if-"

"Well, you also wouldn't have been half-dead if it weren't for him either." Grant snaps, a tight fury settling around the room that catches even Steve by surprise. "You wouldn't be here if it weren't for the fact that he beat the shit out of you _and_ then shot _and_ stabbed you _and_ pounded your face in before allowing you to _fall into the fucking Potomac_." He could almost laugh at the clear sarcasm in the other man's voice if it weren't for the clear anger emanating from him. "So, if it's all the same to you, I would much rather not give him a thank you, after all that, for saving your stupid ass from drowning." He adds with a scowl.

He does chuckle here. He can't not. That very statement is the closest he's ever gonna get to a _I care about your well-being,_ _buddy, and I don't like you being hurt, it upsets me_  as he's ever gonna get and how could not allow himself a small bit of humor, strained though it may be, after this really shitty week?

A frustrated huff comes from the still scowling man at his bedside. "Yeah, laugh it up."

Eventually, though, his laughter does abate and die down, leaving another somehow less tense but, agitated silence in it's wake before Ward breaks it to his infinite surprise. "Steve?"

"Yeah?" He says slowly, watching his buddy's face and tight posture.

"Look, I know that he was your best friend." Steve nearly wants to say _is_ , he still can be the man he'd known because of that small moment of recognition on the bridge but, he lets the words die in his throat, taking in his friend's earnest expression as they meet eyes. "I know you remember him as somebody else but... he doesn't know you. All that programming and brainwashing, it... can be very possible that it can't be fixed. Any of it."

"It can be." He utters hoarsely, his eyes burning again. "I can try."

"He hurt you." Grant says with a steely determination. "He tried to kill you. After all of that..." He trails off , shaking his head, his jaw clenched. "I can't let that stand. I won't."

"I know." He agrees to a certain extent because if he were in Grant's shoes, he would be saying the very same thing. No matter what, he protects the people that he cares about. But, they still include Bucky. "I know. It's just... I know there's some part of him that knows me. There has to be." He adds, throat clogging up. "I have to try, at least."

Grant just nods after a minute before leaning back again in his chair and looking away from him and Steve allows him this for a while. Letting him digest it.

He almost even adds that he can't possibly understand the situation... only to realize that he _can_. The specialist has told him bits and pieces of his childhood. That his parents were deep in politics and never around. That he'd had an abusive older brother and a little one that'd been most often the target of his harmful acts. And that it had taken his younger sibling almost dying in order for Grant to start fighting back against his tyranny.

But, he only knows the vague basics. Yet, he's never pushed. He's been curious enough but, he's never asked him what exactly went on.

He wonders if his childhood with his brothers plays into his anger now.

He could only imagine growing up like that because even when he had nothing, he had Bucky. A brother born from friendship though not by blood.

Though, now's not the time to bring it up, is it?

So, he brings another thing entirely. Brought up from the early part of their conversation.

"Grant?"

"Yeah?" He receives as his friend's head swivels to him again.

"What exactly happened to you?"

Apparently, he doesn't need to specify that he means during the HYDRA invasion because Ward just huffs out a sharp, reluctant laugh and rubs his palm over his face. "Oh, man, where do I start?"

(Just as well, too, because he gives him total shit for waiting to the whole waiting-to-kiss-the-woman-of-your-dreams-during-an-invasion thing.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it and thank you vey much for reading! :)


	3. When Fitz Meets Cap; Fitz & Steve; Grant & Steve (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD's best rocket scientist and the world's first supersoldier finally meet... It does not go well. At first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's another chapter! I've been enjoying the reaction to this and am overjoyed at the support. :)
> 
> This piece takes place at some point in the middle of my 'specialist & supersoldier' one-shot. Meaning it's before the fall of everything. And a little before Grant deals with the staff. Enjoy!

 Fitz is busy at work in between telling Grant about the latest weapon he's actually in the middle of creating, hands swishing manically in his work, when Ward's phone starts going off.

"Gotta take this." He says, seeing the familiar number flashing on the screen. "Hey, man." He greets warmly while walking away a few steps from the engineer's work station.

The conversation with Steve is short and brief. He's got a meeting with Coulson nearby and wants to stop by in a few to say hi and seeing as it's been a while since they last saw each other, Ward isn't gonna argue with him.

He hasn't seen his friend in almost a month. He's not gonna argue. Nor is he gonna pretend this doesn't put him in a better mood.

"Alright, I'll see you then. Bye." He says before hanging up and walking back over to Fitz.

"What is it? Who was that?" The other man immediately asks because he knows no boundaries and in addition to being mildly suspicious to most things, he's also just a tad nosy.

(He sometimes wonders if it's his friend's brilliant mind not being able to take things as they are the way others can.

Though it's not for the same reason, he can certainly relate.)

Of course, he's gotten so used to it that he rarely even bothers anymore to be annoyed with him. "Nothing. Just a friend, gonna stop by in a bit." He answers easily, pocketing his phone as he goes.

"Who-?"

"It's nothing. Just... come on." He gestures towards the pulled apart weapon on the work table. "Tell me more about the pistol."

After his friend gives him the as expected narrow eyes to his vague answers but, _also_ as expected, he gets back to working and explaining and Grant just sits back and listens.

He likes Fitz. He wouldn't be friends with just anybody. Aside from a few fellow specialists - Bobbi and Trip, being at the top of the list - Fitz is the closest person he has to a real friend and considering how damn different they are from each other, he oft times puts some thought into how the hell they even get along for most of the occasions they interact.

And he's seen him interact with other people.

Fitz is a good guy. Though it's actually hard to peg most of the time because the engineer rarely gives time in acting like a human being and not the scientist. He's not necessarily arrogant, just... he more has a kind of inflated sense of his own genius. Which, okay, is entirely earned though others (namely others who aren't Grant and/or Jemma) have a difficult time understanding him.

And it's mostly through his specialist training and a little bit of digging, that Ward had been able to understand on his own.

He doesn't really like digging for personal purposes. Unless for a mission, he wouldn't normally go rooting through someone else's business. And he almost regrets it with what he _does_ find in Fitz's file. The medical files. The school counselor notes...

It's not something he enjoys thinking about even now.

Regardless, he pushes these contemplative thoughts away and focuses on Fitz's science babble - really, he's smart enough to be one of SHIELD's best specialist and it's finest spy since Romanov but, he's _never_ gonna fully get all this - only catching the occasional phrase he's already heard before and technical wording that he's been made to know through weapon's training.

In fact, he gets so involved in the scientist's speech about the gun's specs, that it's made to respond only to his palm and finger prints as well having a prolonged cartridge to potentially hold several of Fitz's smart bullets in the chamber, that he forgets about his earlier phone call until he receives an incoming text message.

He easily responds and then turns to Fitz. "My buddy's on his way."

"Wha-?" The previously focused engineer nearly breaks his own neck in spinning it 'round as though Steve is gonna suddenly materialize out of thin air. "Here?" 

"Yes, here." He answers, grabbing a smart bullet and tossing it in his palm, testing the weight of it. "Be nice. This is his first time down here."

Fitz frowns (he's told him that it's likely to get stuck that way). "Be ni- oh well, that's mighty rich." He says, his voice already getting to that loud tenor he gets when he's tuned up. "Coming from you?! You're asking me to be nice? Says the man who glares at everyone who gets within six feet of him or that tine when you shot-"

"Okay, that's enough." He interrupts, patting the shorter man on the shoulder as he spins him around to face the clear lab doors where the blond shape of another man stands. "He's here. Now behave."

"Oh." He can instantly pick up on the note of recognition in Fitz's voice at the very second he turns to see their visitor. "Oh, fine. If that's your new friend, then you must go attend to-"

"Don't be jealous." He smirks over his shoulder as he reaches the door.

He doesn't even need to turn back when he punches in the code to open the doors in order to see the scowl Fitz is directing at his back.

He greets Steve at the door and after a few minutes of a little small talk, ushers him further into the lab,. "This is where the science happens." He mutters as his friend's eyes run all over the space, no doubt imprinting the imagery into that enhanced photographic memory of his. "And this is Fi- Fitz?" The only other man in the room is facing away from them as though he hadn't just seen that they have a guest earlier. "Fitz!" He shouts, grabbing his attention and startling him into dropping the tool he'd been holding. "Look alive. There's another human in the vicinity."

After a few long seconds of fidgeting, the engineer finally does his own version of standing and turns to face them fully.

And then his eyes land on Steve.

"Eh." He utters, giving the supersoldier a peculiar look, and Grant sighs to himself.

 _Oh shit, here we go._ He knows that _eh_. Has seen it directed at certain people Fitz has met once and have ended up... absolutely nowhere with the scientist. Just nothing. One _eh_ and if Fitz ever sees that person ever again, he doesn't exactly make it subtle of how much he doesn't like that person. Leaving them in a puddle of befuddlement and if it's really bad, _hurt_ feelings.

No real reason, just eh and they're in the dog house right outta the gate.

The only other person to have gotten past that _eh_ had been Grant himself. After they'd first met. When Ward had been assigned as glorified bodyguard due to an injury that had taken him out of specialist rotation and the job mostly involved standing guard outside and/or lounging inside the lab while keeping an eye on things. Only taking breaks when Fitz did.

Not a lot of danger happened down in SciOps but, a certain incident had made the higher-ups nervous so, they'd just assigned their best specialist as bodyguard. Reasoning that even with his limp, Ward's presence would hold enough menace to avoid any unwanted company within the labs.

And yeah, Grant had also been trained to fight in a number of ways when one limb was weaker than the others if anything ugly should go down.

And Fitz hadn't really taken a shine to him initially. Which had been fine by him because all he'd been told to do was protect the floor. The secret weapons down here and the man who'd made them. Not to make friends.

Then, a stray bullet from a maniac had almost killed Fitz.

Before Ward had pulled him out of the way. Getting one in the shoulder for his troubles.

After he'd gotten patched up and come back for duty, Fitz's attitude towards him - namely, a mix of being more than a little intimidated, unnerved, and generally _annoyed at his very existence_ \- had changed some.

He wants to say that they'd been friends ever since but, that wouldn't be true. It had taken a few more months of interaction for _that_ to occur.

Now, it's happening again. Only Grant's not stupid enough to think that even someone like Steve Rogers could thaw out Fitz a second time.

He's just gonna have to work with it though.

"Fitz, this Steve Rogers." He pats the man next to him on the shoulder. "Steve, this is-"

"Leo Fitz." The engineer inserts, his arms crossed over his chest, not even attempting to go for a handshake when the taller man attempts to do so. "Engineer. Weapons maker. Ward's best friend-"

"Fitz." He growls impatiently.

"But, enough of all that." The scientist waves a hand in a show of so very false nonchalance in the face of his threatening tone. "Very nice to make your acquaintance, Captain Rogers." He adds in a voice that suggests anything but.

Though, either Steve doesn't care about his attitude or doesn't notice it. Either way, the friendly look on his face doesn't falter. "Please, call me Steve."

"Eh."

_Oh god, Fitz._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I got more wordy than I originally was gonna do so, the next half of this is going to be in a second installment. Thank you for reading. Please be gentle! ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Have patience with me here. I don't how often I will be updating but, I'll try to do so, if you guys tell me what it is you think. Thanks! :)


End file.
